


Craniometry

by redwinehouse (orphan_account)



Series: Cranial Capacity INDEFINITE HIATUS, BUT A FULL STORY LINE WAS COMPLETED [29]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Comedy, F/M, Humor, Prequel, Reader Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/redwinehouse
Summary: This is the story of how you met Sherlock Holmes. It started with a bang.*Prequel Chapter





	Craniometry

  


[ ](http://www.dazzlejunction.com/generators/image-generator.php)

  


The man had the worst dental hygiene you had ever seen in your life. He had so much calculus on his teeth that it took you almost ten minutes to scrape it off of each tooth…off of the ones he still had, at least. Where there weren’t rotting stumps or gaps were gold teeth. If it had been three hundred years ago, you would have been sure this man was a pirate. But his records showed him to be Richard Dawkins, age 76. He died of a cerebral hemorrhage after severe brain trauma in a car accident and had been left out in the field for three years. You had boiled his flesh off last night and were in the midst of cleaning off the remnants of the tissue that remained. It was grunt work that you usually left to beginner students, but you needed some mindless task to keep your mind off of the nasty break-up with your boyfriend. 

They said “don’t shit where you eat,” and they were one hundred percent right; dating a co-worker was the most foolish thing you had done. Dr. William Riley was possibly the greatest mind in the anthropology of disasters and displacement of human rights and was a magnet for school funding and anthropology recruitment. You had met when he wanted to collaborate with you. He was giving a lecture to his students about the flood in 1953 and wanted you to explain the physical effects of the natural disaster on the bodies of its victims. You happily obliged and sparks flew. 

What you hadn’t expected from such an intellectual was obscene clingly-ness. In the beginning it was sweet. William always held your hand in public, made sure to call you to see that you got home safe, and was never afraid to tell you how he felt. It had just become very hard to deal with when during your breaks he would come in and hang onto you like a sloth, or text you every five minutes asking you what you were doing. When he told you he loved you a week into the relationship, you awkwardly thanked him. You put up with him for a year out of pity. He was working on an extremely important presentation and you knew that if you broke up with him, he wouldn’t be able to finish it. You couldn’t bring yourself to be responsible for depriving the world of such knowledge. 

The presentation came and went and you finally broke the bad news. His reaction was just as you expected – melodramatic. For the last part of the week everyone saw him cry down the hallways, pulling tissues out of his pocket. You just felt so bad. As you cleaned off Mr. Dawkin’s teeth, the guilt kept ripping its way through your body. You knew you had no obligation to be with someone you didn’t want to be with and it was cruel to string someone along, but that didn’t make you feel any better. 

Right when you closed your eyes, a bang louder than thunder exploded right next to your ear and everything flew from the table, including Mr. Dawkin’s head. You screamed and covered your ears, jumping back. Your ears were ringing and you could hardly hear. You felt something warm and sticky oozing out onto your left hand. You took if off and saw drops of blood on your palm. You had a ruptured eardrum. Great. 

”ARE YOU INSANE!? YOU COULD HAVE BLOODY KILLED HER!” You could only hear because the person was screaming. 

There was a muffled reply that you couldn’t quite make out. But you were able to manage, “Obviously I didn’t.” The rest was just mumbling. Smug mumbling. Luckily, your ears began to clear up. 

”I knew exactly where to aim. In no way was she going to get hurt,” the smug voice said. 

”No you didn’t!” the voice of reason argued. “You ran in here and just fired off next to her poor head! She probably can’t even hear you jackass!” 

”I can now.” You spun around, fists clenched and ready for a fight. It sounded like you would have a sidekick, so you were feeling pretty confidant. “Who the _hell_ do you think you are- oh…” Your imminent fury was put on hold for a moment when your eyes fell onto to the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Watson. 

The detective must have recognized your shock because he smiled smugly. “I’m Sherlock Holmes and this is Dr. John Watson.” He pointed to John, who waved sheepishly. 

”Get out of my lab,” you ordered. 

”And we’re doing just that,” John said, holding up a placating hand. When he began to walk away, Sherlock grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back into place. 

”I have several things I need to do and I will not be leaving until I am finished.” He looked at the obliterated bones next to you. “I need to test out different angles of gunshot wounds and I thought that was a body. Unfortunately, I was wrong.” He clapped his hands together and gave you a smile that showed just how little he thought of you before swooping off into the back of the building where all of the newly donated bodies were held. John gave you a pitiful look before chasing after him. 

You were right behind him. By the time you got there, you found Sherlock hunched over trying to pick one of the locks. Your fury back, you strode over and pushed him, making him stumble. Probably used to people being angry at him and reacting physically, Sherlock was able to stay on his feet. 

He marched over to you and leaned over. He narrowed his eyes and got within an inch from your face. You had seen Sherlock on the news more times than you could count, but you never realized how absolutely breath taking his eyes were. You would have appreciated them much more if you weren’t so angry. 

”This is official business of the Scotland Yard and any interference in punishable by law. Do you understand me?” His eyes darted around your face, probably reading every single aspect of your life. 

”Horshite.” 

You heard Dr. Watson snicker from the sidelines. “Stop lying, Sherlock.” 

With one last ice-y stare from the detective, he pulled back. “I will be back.” 

”Okay, terminator,” Dr. Watson grabbed Sherlock’s arm, “let’s go.” 

You followed them on their way out. “Why don’t you go and shoot bodies at the morgue?” 

Now in the parking lot, Sherlock ripped away from Dr. Watson. Violently straitening his jacket, he replied, “They kicked me out.” 

”And why is that?” you asked. 

Sherlock looked away. “For shooting dead bodies.” He spun on his heel and walked away. 

Dr. Watson paused between you and his friend. Hesitantly he said, “I understand if you never want to see us again, but I noticed your ear is bleeding. I can get you a prescription for antibiotics - on the house, of course.” 

You gave him a tight lipped smile. He had certainly seemed to be on your side throughout this entire fiasco and you didn’t see a reason to be angry with him. 

”You know, that would be really nice.” 

~*~ 

The next day your hearing had come back and you had the antibiotics that Dr. Watson had prescribed for you. Yesterday had been absolutely terrible. You had to clean up the rest of Mr. Dawkins, who had been obliterated into dust. The disrespect of Sherlock Holmes’ actions was nothing short of disgusting. It was safe to say that you hated the detective. 

You were in your office, creating the lesson plan for the upcoming semester when you heard a loud scratching sound, followed by a long creak. Suspicious, you got up and quickly made your way to the lab. Rounding the corner, your eyes fell on Sherlock Holmes crawling through a window. 

”I told you not to come back, Holmes.” 

Sherlock jumped. You had clearly surprised him, putting a damper on his expert sleuthing skills. He spun around, his eyes quickly meeting yours. He immediately straightened his coat and scarf. 

”And I’m not listening.” He turned and tried to go to the back hallway, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged. 

”You’re not going back there.” 

Sherlock sighed in aggravation and stopped. He turned and faced you, giving you another good look at those blue eyes. 

”You recently broke up with your boyfriend and are throwing yourself into your work as a means to keep your mind busy. Unfortunately that is rather hard because he also works here at the university, so you are bound to run into him, especially if he works in the same department.” 

”Well, he works in another branch. But otherwise, yes. He wouldn’t stop talking.” 

At this Sherlock raised an eyebrow. His plan had been to humiliate you so that you would leave him alone, but you seemed to be thriving under his scrutiny. 

"He was emotionally unstable; constantly needing attention, insecure. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was paranoid that I was going to cheat on him.” You rolled your eyes. “I was the one who broke it off. I stayed with him out of pity and I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

”He sounds like a fool and you’re a fool for staying with him for as long as you did. However,” Sherlock took a breath, “at least you have a miniscule bit of sense of you to leave.” 

”And you’re leaving too. Goodbye.” The entire time you had been talking you had been slowly walking to the front door of the forensics center. Sherlock unknowingly followed you into the parking lot, when you then slammed and locked the door. 

Sherlock watched as you retreated into the building. You couldn’t see, but a small smile appeared on Sherlock’s face. He was no longer interested in the body. 

The game was on. 

~*~ 

The next week was certainly an interesting one. You had to put your lectures on hold because all of your effort was focused on stopping Sherlock Holmes from breaking into your lab. Climbing through the window was just the beginning. The next day there was shuffling in your ceiling. You first thought it had to be a resurface of the family of raccoons you had to deal with a couple of months ago, but raccoons certainly couldn’t curse. 

You had grabbed a broom and stabbed at the hanging ceiling, surprising Sherlock enough to make him jump and come crashing down onto the floor. Another time he tried to pick the lock to the back door, but you had cameras in the back to make sure no ne’re do wells snuck into the body field. One night you had stayed late and jumped when you heard an ear piercing buzzing sound. You ran outside to find Sherlock Holmes attempting to drill into the building. 

You yawned, your thermos of coffee held firmly in your hand. You unlocked the door to the center, making sure to lock all of the locks you had bought since Sherlock had lay siege to you workplace. Just as you were going into your office, you heard a gentle knock on the door. You turned and saw none other than Sherlock Holmes standing behind it, hands clasped behind his back. 

You were completely taken aback, not quite sure what to do. Your eyes met his and he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head expectedly. 

”I believe it is customary to open the door when someone knocks.” He looked at the doorknob. 

Your eyes still trained on him, you opened the door and he stepped inside. He began to take off his coat and scarf. 

”Well, make yourself at home,” your voice dripped with sarcasm as you took your own coat and put it on the coat rack. 

Sherlock didn’t answer, instead tossing his clothes to you. To your surprise, he waited for you before going to the lab. 

”Being polite is not going to get you a dead body to shoot at.” 

”I’m quite aware of that.” 

”Then why are you here and why are you acting so kind?” 

Sherlock snorted and sat himself on a stool across from your workspace in the lab. The counter was shaped in a ‘U,’ so your back would be facing him. “Because I have grown tired of all of my previous work spaces.” 

You had been so shocked by his behavior that you hadn’t noticed the satchel he had brought. He began to set up a chemistry set. 

”As for being polite, I realized that the best way to gain access would be to simply ask. Now be quiet.” He had pricked the tip of his finger and put his own blood on a swatch and was now studying it with his microscope. 

To his surprise, you laughed. “You are a breath of fresh air,” you admitted, thinking of William. You sat down and began to set up your workspace. “The same thing goes for you. Zip your lip.” 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. You were a strange one. 

It went on like that for several days, you both working in comfortable silence until you rolled in a decayed body of a murdered victim. You had kept her in the field for a year and part of her face had been eaten by maggots early on. 

Sherlock had practically ran up behind you. “What is that?” 

You crossed your arms and stood back. “You tell me.” 

Sherlock smirked. 

~*~ 

It went on like that for months. You would challenge him to deduce how the victim’s died. You made sure to find the most decomposed bodies to make it as hard as possible. Of course he would always figure it out, but he would have difficulty on some. The quiet working hours quickly became a thing of the past and sarcastic insults and sharp quips were exchanged, but none of them had any real ill-intention behind them. It happened so slowly that neither of you noticed, but Sherlock’s work area had continued to inch closer to yours. 

One day, Sherlock did not come in until late afternoon. You had started to get concerned; he was never late unless he had a case, which he would always tell you about. When he finally came in, he looked distraught. His hair was mused and his usual pristine attire was wrinkled. 

”Didn’t you wear that yesterday?” you asked. 

Sherlock jumped at the sound of your voice, but avoided to meet your gaze. He looked down. “It appears so.” 

”Are you okay?” 

”Of course I’m okay,” Sherlock scoffed. “I just couldn’t sleep. An experiment was keeping me up.” He took his seat and turned his back to you. 

”What was it? It must be really complicated if it kept you up.” Sherlock truly looked like a wreck. 

”It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, “it’s a waste of time and unimportant.” 

Why was he so angry? “Then why did you even bother to do it?” you asked. 

”I _didn’t_ ,” he spat. “It just happened.” 

Now he just wasn’t making sense. “Would it make you feel better if you went through with it anyway so you could at least find the answer and stop being a total dick and move on?” 

Sherlock spun around and you finally locked eyes. He had given you a lot a looks over the last few months, but you didn’t recognize how he was looking at you now. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair as if he was trying to wake himself up or expel nervous energy before he strode over and took hold of your wrist. With tremendous force, he wrenched you from your seat and pulled you against him. In a synchronized motion that was so fluid that it felt like he had practiced, (and maybe he did) his hand let go of your wrist and joined the other one that was cupping your face. Then Sherlock Holmes kissed you. 

You sighed. The kiss was so chaste and soft, tentative. Your heart was happily beating fast and you felt the sparks fly. During your time together, you had the chance to really appreciate those blue eyes and raven curls. He was everything William wasn’t and everything about him was just right for you, even when he was a complete jerk. So you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer and kissed him harder. 

You must have scared him, because Sherlock pulled away. He pressed his forehead to yours and sighed in irritation. 

"Just as I thought,” he grumbled. 

”What?” you asked, still dazed. 

He rolled his eyes and he said the next words angrily, “I utterly _adore_ you.” He kicked a trash can, making it fly across the room and flinging garbage everywhere. He went to put on his coat and scarf, mumbling something that sounded like, “idiot,” and “disgusting,” before he left you without a second glance or even a goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I made the reader character meet John earlier than the actual original canon but whatever. I have absolute power.
> 
> I really don't know why I didn't do this sooner. It was very fun to write and I think it's cute. Unfortunately I never know how it will come across to the public , but what are ya gonna do? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I hope you liked it anyway. <3


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